Morte et Liberté

(Death and Freedom)

PART THREE

Mr. Parker looked up from his desk suddenly as the grand, gilded doors of his office flew open and his daughter strode in. He rose and stepped out to meet her with open arms.

"Pumpkin," he said affectionately as she embraced him.

"Daddy," she stepped away and smoothed her suit, "I've had Sydney's body placed in the cold store. Has the investigation turned up anything new?" She kept her voice strong and emotionless, her chin high, determined not to give credence to the speculation that fierce, queen-bitch Parker would be grieved by the psychiatrist's death.

Her father saw right through her as always, keeping his hands on her shoulders, meeting her eyes with a promise. "Not yet, but mark my words, we'll find out who did this. Sydney was like family..."

He retuned to his desk and sat down. "We'll hold the funeral a week tomorrow."

Miss Parker was puzzled, "A funeral? Daddy, Centre personnel are never--"

"You'll be ready with sweeper-teams around the perimeter."

Suddenly she understood, and inexplicably the idea sickened her. "You're going to use Sydney's funeral to capture Jarod." The cold, rational part of her that would have done anything possible to catch him knew this was the perfect plan. No matter what the danger, Jarod would be at Sydney's funeral, and probably less clear-headed and cunning than usual. But the deep-hidden human side of her knew that this was a step too low, to use the Pretender's grief and loss as a weapon against him...

Mr. Parker watched the brief conflict play across his daughter's usually stony face. "I know what you're thinking... but we'd be fools to let an opportunity like this slip." He watched the sudden sharp look of denial that she'd had any misgivings at all, and sighed, "Now, pumpkin... Brigitte will co-ordinating this operation, just in case you're... not up to it."

At the mere mention of the lollipop-sucking slut's name, she glared in undisguised fury at her father for a moment, then turned and stalked out of the office.

As she stormed down the corridor towards what used to be Sydney's office, she could barely think for anger. She couldn't believe she'd let her ruthless efficiency slip to the point that her father didn't trust her to do the job! Brigitte... god how she hated that woman. Now the blonde bimbo would get the credit for Jarod's capture. Parker realised with particular disgust that the situation was entirely her own fault for developing a conscience, a serious character flaw in her profession, which had been greatly influenced by working with Sydney, damn him!

She stomped into her late colleague's office, and glared at the little framed photo of Sydney on the desk. "This is all your fault!" she hissed at it. Her distraction cleared for a moment, then, as she looked more closely at the photograph. Why would Sydney have a picture of himself on his desk? He was probably the least narcissistic person she knew...

Jacob...

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Sydney's identical twin had died just weeks ago, in a remote cabin, attended by his loving brother to the last. Parker and Broots had both been there as Jacob, who'd been comatose for most of his adult life, had, near the end, awoken enough to sit and smile out at the beautiful view before passing peacefully away.

Of course, as far as the Centre were concerned, Parker had suffocated Jacob in his bed at a nursing home a year ago, and so they never knew of the 'second' death of Sydney's twin, nor his quiet burial in the hills near the cabin.

Parker's mind wandered as she drove along the tiny, winding lanes towards that sanctuary. She remembered how, when she'd first learned of Sydney's death from Jarod, she noted that even in death the twins weren't far apart, and wondered if the loss of his brother had in anyway contributed to these circumstances.

Now she only smiled at the suspicions she was about to confirm, laughing within herself that Sydney had learned such deception, and had the audacity to pull it off.

A few hours later, she stood over an immense hole in the ground, breathing hard, her white office shirt muddied and sweaty. The coffin was visible below the last, thin layer of dirt. With a silent apology to Jacob for what she was about to do, and an involuntary shudder at the fear of actually discovering a festering corpse instead of an empty box, she jumped down and began to prise off the lid.

Her heart in her mouth, she opened the coffin a crack and shone her flashlight in. The wooden bottom was clearly visible, and she huffed with relief. She laughed as she climbed out and began to shovel the dirt back over the empty casket. "It's a good job you're not dead, Syd, 'cause I'm going to kill you when I catch up with you, sneaky bastard!"

She wondered whether he would simply disappear without a trace, or whether, like Jarod, he too would start waking her up with infuriating phone calls.

Her cell phone vibrated like fury in her pocket, and she stopped shovelling to answer it.

"What?"

"Err.. Miss Parker, it's me," Broots' voice was low and nervous as usual, "I think you should try and get back here ASAP... I've just had Brigitte down here asking for you."

"I'm on my way."

"Did you--"

"I was right." She could almost hear the little man smiling as he hung up.

END OF PART THREE